


Secrets and Lace

by froggydarren



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Lace Panties, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 09:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14767200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/froggydarren
Summary: He's had the bag at the back of the closet — under a pile of old sweaters that he doesn't use unless he's traveling — for months. It's plain white, unassuming, and yet he tenses anytime Dylan peeks into that closet to look for a shirt to borrow.





	Secrets and Lace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ididntwannashipit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ididntwannashipit/gifts).



> Written for the [Full Moon Ficlet](https://fullmoonficlet.tumblr.com) challenge on tumblr - prompt #277: pink
> 
> (Also a slightly belated birthday pressie for my darling Tris <3)

He's had the bag at the back of the closet — under a pile of old sweaters that he doesn't use unless he's traveling — for months. It's plain white, unassuming, and yet he tenses anytime Dylan peeks into that closet to look for a shirt to borrow.

Not that Dylan has any reason to look below that sweater pile, or suspect that Tyler is hiding something there… or anywhere else. But it’s probably even worse to think of it being discovered by accident than if he was to just open that discussion. Which he doesn’t think he can, not yet, maybe not ever.

So the bag continues sitting there, the plain white teasing him whenever he spots it — no, he doesn’t go _looking_ for it, no way — and the tiny flash of pink he has seared into his brain.

It’s easier to look when he knows that Dylan’s not going to be home for a while. When there’s the safety of distance caused by Dylan being on a different continent. When Tyler knows that he’s going to be alone for days or weeks.

Whenever that happens, he digs out the bag, sets in on the nightstand, and usually spends hours letting it sit there, tempting him. Some of the times the temptation overcomes his worry — and a little slice of deeply ingrained shame that he hasn’t managed to grow out of yet — and he opens the bag.

The pink lace is frail, soft, rubbing against his fingers when he pulls the panties out. After the first instance of leaving it in the bag without a dryer sheet, it now always smells of fresh laundry, like when he puts on new bedsheets the night after Dylan comes home.

He’s always hard before he even takes the panties out of the bag, but when he _does_ , his dick immediately twitches with interest even more. Sometimes just holding them is enough to get him halfway to an orgasm, the rest of the way finished with one hand while the other is clutched around the pink lace.

But then some days, he takes a shower — the bag accompanying him into the bathroom where he can see it — and then lies down on the bed without putting clothes on. He’s always liked that side of California, the being able to get out from under the spray and not have to think about keeping warm. Days like that, he rests there, eyes on the bag while he’s waiting for his skin to dry, not bothering to touch himself even though he’s hard.

Then, when his skin is dry and he’s no longer afraid of ruining the fabric with moisture, he pulls the panties out of the bag, and carefully slips them on. It feels even better to have the lace against his hips and ass than it does against his palm, and the friction the panties cause against his dick makes him forget all about the worries of getting the fabric damp or damaged, precome leaking from the tip down onto the lace.

He never lasts long like this, hand rubbing over the lace, pressing down on his cock with urgency, thoughts straying to the images of someone else’s hand — Dylan’s long fingers — doing the same. When he comes it’s quiet, the worry and guilt seeping back in as he wipes himself off and walks back into the bathroom to wash the panties. Then, when he’s let them dry in the sun, he stashes them and the bag under the sweater pile again, out of sight.

Only when they’re hidden does he allow himself to relax. He never fails to do that, ever, the fear of getting discovered, getting caught with the panties is too big for him to drop his guard, to allow himself to fall asleep before he has them off and stashed out of sight.

Until one day he underestimates how tired surfing all morning makes him.

^v^v^v^v^

He’s woken up from his impromptu nap by a thud and a surprised gasp, and he rolls over to face the door. Dylan’s been away on a shoot for the past few weeks, and he wasn’t due for another two, yet there he is, standing in the door, eyes wide open and jaw dropped.

Tyler, still drowsy like he always is just after waking, wonders why _Dylan_ is the one who’s shocked. Then he moves and feels the fabric around his hips scratch a little against his skin.

 _Oh fuck_.

Dylan takes a tentative step forward but then stops again when Tyler shifts again and reaches for the sheet that’s bunched up on the side of the bed.

“Holy shit,” Dylan mutters, eyes still wide, pupils blown.

And that’s… not the reaction Tyler’s been bracing himself for. He expected disapproval, disgust maybe. Not Dylan’s cheeks burning red and his hands twitching like he wants to touch. He was prepared for a head shake, for judgment, not for Dylan licking his lips and stepping a little closer with each deep, shaky breath.

“I…” Tyler starts, but he’s not sure what he wants to say.

Apologize, maybe. But that doesn’t seem to be what Dylan wants to hear. Explain; only he doesn’t know where to start and how to tell Dylan why he’s fallen asleep like this, why he _has_ lace panties on, why he’s been hiding them.

“Holy shit,” Dylan repeats, now at the side of the bed, looking down where Tyler is still clutching the sheet, fighting the urge to cover himself up.

“You said that already,” Tyler tells him, and wow, his voice is scratchier and deeper than he expected it to be.

He chalks it up to sleep, but he really knows better than that.

Because Dylan looking at him like that? Like he wants to touch Tyler all over, like he wants to _do things_ to him? That’s definitely adding to the layer of arousal that his traitorous dick is all to keen to show.

“I don’t know what else to say,” Dylan says quietly. “I’m a bit..”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Tyler blurts, and immediately wants to take it back, because he knows that’s not true.

“Oh.”

“No, wait. I didn’t…” He pauses, rubs a hand over his face. “I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t think you’d… be interested.”

He can feel his cheeks burning, and wonders how, even with feeling as awkward as he does right now, his dick is still very much in _interested_ mode. So is, apparently, Dylan, who doesn’t say anything as he sits down on the bed next to Tyler, but doesn’t reach out.

“Well, it’s not something that would’ve come to mind randomly,” Dylan says after a silence that sets Tyler further on edge. “But… seeing you like that, when I came in? I’m definitely interested. Intrigued.”

“Oh. Yeah?” Tyler looks at Dylan, and finds him looking right back, pupils still blown in a very familiar way.

“Yeah,” Dylan says as he nods. “Pink looks good on you.”

Tyler’s dick twitches in response to Dylan’s low tone. Finally, he lets go of the sheet and twists around to face Dylan properly. Then he tells himself to stop worrying, and — still with hesitation, but working through it as he moves — he shuffles away and lies back into the pillows.

“Yeah?”

Dylan gulps as his eyes rake over Tyler’s body, slowing when he gets to his waist and then lower. Then he slowly looks back up until he meets Tyler’s eyes again.

“Is it okay if I touch?”

Tyler nods, unable to form words under Dylan’s heated gaze. The first touch of Dylan’s fingers on his ankle makes him tense, but then he relaxes as Dylan moves his hand up inch by inch. They’ve done this before — obviously without the lace — the slow touches, the teasing. Sometimes it’s foreplay, other times Dylan does it to drive Tyler crazy. It’s different now because Tyler has imagined so many times how it would be to have Dylan run his fingers over the thin fabric. So when finally Dylan reaches the edge of the panties, Tyler has to bite his lip and look up at the ceiling to stop himself from coming way too soon.

He wants to enjoy this, wants to savor every moment, but Dylan’s exploring fingers are bad enough any other time, let alone when he’s tracing the curves of the lacy pattern _right over Tyler’s hard dick_.

“Stop teasing,” Tyler lets out through gritted teeth after Dylan moves his hand to Tyler’s hips.

“I’m enjoying this,” Dylan says, grinning.

“Well, enjoy faster, this isn’t gonna take long,” Tyler grumbles, his hands gripping the sheets.

Dylan doesn’t speed up, but his touch gets more firm, and he spreads his palm over Tyler’s lace-covered cock. By all means, it shouldn’t be enough to tip Tyler over the edge, but when Dylan’s thumb runs over the edge of the panties, right until the head of Tyler’s cock, that’s it.

Tyler arches off the bed, his cock spurts come all over his chest, and his teeth bite down on his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. It’s only when he shudders from oversensitivity that Dylan reluctantly pulls his hand away, but leaves his palm on Tyler’s hip, fingers stroking the lacy edge of the pink fabric.

“So…”

When Dylan’s voice gets past the cloud of Tyler’s post-orgasmic bliss, he tenses and immediately gets hit with a wave of “oh no”.

“You got any other ones?” Dylan asks, throwing Tyler’s mind for a loop.

“What?”

“Well, these are kind of ruined now,” Dylan says, his hand moving to the come that’s reached the panties. “Wouldn’t want to never do this again.”

He’s blushing, Tyler notices when he looks at Dylan, and there’s a sheepish grin on his face as his eyes dart between Tyler’s face and his crotch.

“They wash.”

“I could get you new ones.”

They speak at the same time, and Tyler barely catches what Dylan’s saying.

“What?” He asks because he doesn’t trust his own ears.

“I could buy more,” Dylan says, quietly. “I think red would look good on you.”

Tyler, instead of answering, sits up and pulls Dylan in for a shaky kiss.

“Yeah,” he mumbles against Dylan’s lips a moment later. “Yeah okay.”

It’s better than any of his fantasies ever were.

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://froggydarren.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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